Lonely Man
by I am SHERly LOCKed
Summary: Sherlock, the highly functioning sociopath with only three friends in the world, the cold as ice detective, is left alone in his flat with nothing to do. Disastrous to begin with. What he does next is something inexplicably rash, something he might regret until his dying breath. Sherlock gets a cat. Just because it's not a love story doesn't mean there's no love. Or isn't it.
1. Chapter 1

It is morning. Light filters through the windows of the flat, dappling the features of a tall figure sitting in a chair. Dark, curly hair is an unruly mess, unusual this late in the morning. Icy eyes flick from one side of the room to another, searching for something, anything, out of place. Sherlock raises the cup to his lips, inhaling the steam rising from its chocolate brown depths. His feet are stretched out, newspaper in his lap. His eyes finally settle on the window. He studies the crisp winter scenes rushing by outside with a practiced eye. He settles for a middle aged man with a blue and white scarf wrapped tightly around his neck.

"Rushing around for Christmas no doubt. Has two children, a boy and a girl. Both are young, I would say around five to six. Recently divorced but it was her idea, not his. Hoping to win her back by gaining favor with the kids. Has a cat, maybe two. Living in a hotel and running out of money fast. Needs to be employed soon." He paused, glancing around the flat to see if anyone had magically appeared while he was rambling on.

Such a pity that no one was there to appreciate his sheer brilliance. Where was that blasted John when you needed him? He would call him. Yes, that's it. Surely he couldn't resist directly speaking with the great Sherlock Holmes.

Ring ring ring! Ring ring ring! Finally he picked up.

"John, where are you? I've been sitting in this chair since eight this morning with not a thing to do and I'm bored. "

Silence on the other end. Then John's voice.

"Sherlock I can't be there every second of your day, you know that. I have other things to do, other people to see!"

Sherlock frowned, opening his mouth to give some witty retort. Unfortunelty John wasn't done yet.

"Look, there is something important you should be doing."

Sherlock brightened at this, a small smile playing his lips. "Finally John, I think I've been going mad! Well, more so than usual." That ought to have gotten a laugh out of John.

Sure enough, a small chuckle could be heard through the phone. "Getting funny now are we? What happened to my usual Sherlock eh?" He paused for a moment, seeming to gather his thoughts. "Sherlock, I need you to get a pet."

He sat in silence, a stunned look on his face. "You want me to get.. a pet? A... pet. As in animal. Dirty, filthy, disgusting pet that licks itself and... GOES wherever it wants to? There is absolutely no way that you will find me standing in front of a row of cages, looking for a miserable, flea-bitten animal. And that's final."

A half-hour later, Sherlock found himself in front of a row of cages, looking for a miserable, flea-bitten animal.

"It will be GOOD for you Sherlock. You're always so lonely in the flat, and this will give you something to take care of. I'll pay you for the expense, you just have to pick one out." John had convinced him in the way only his best friend could. And now he was looking in each of the cages at the large, excessively shedding animals that people fondly referred to as dogs.

With horror evident in his eyes he watched as one dragged its butt across the floor, tail wagging madly. He turned to the volunteer at the kennel.

"Is there anything...else... You have here?" He asked, recoiling as one of the dogs barked suddenly at him.

"Not a dog person eh? Follow me."

The girl lead him into another room with cages in it. These, however, were cats. Each of them were quietly lounging in their own space, some asleep and others watching everything around them as it unfolded. Long haired, short haired, fat, skinny, black, white, all varieties. Sherlock found himself drawn to the small creatures inexplicably.

He stopped that the third cage on his left, eyeing it's occupant. It was a smaller cat, black in color. It's eyes were a light blue, with speckles of steel grey thrown in here and there.

"Hello."

The cat pricked his/her ears at the sound of his voice and sat up. Slowly it advanced to the front of the cage, and then sat down again. A fluffy black tail curled around dainty paws. Slowly it made eye contact with Sherlock. It's small mouth opened slightly.

"MrrrrOWW!"

"I suppose this one will do." He muttered, turning away from the feline. If he had to get a pet, it might as well be this small...fluffy...thing.

 ** _A/N:_**

 ** _Thank you so much for reading this far! More chapters soon to come, so please remember to check back with it now and then._**

 ** _There may be more interesting things to you than a cat later on_**

 ** _(::) (::) (::) Cookies for you!_**


	2. Chapter 2: Cinnamon

Sherlock stared.

The cat stared.

Sherlock narrowed his eyes.

The cat narrowed its eyes.

Abruptly Sherlock stood up from his chair, taking long strides past the cat. It watched his every move, giving Sherlock the uneasy feeling that it was doing deductions on him.

Impossible. It was a cat.

He checked the microwave, eying the eyeballs that it held. Nothing new there. Sherlock turned to make his way back to his chair, perhaps to turn on the Telly and correct whatever show was on. Instead he was stopped by the cat, which was standing directly in his path. He sniffed and stepped around it.

It was very silent.

...

John burst into the flat, grocery bags in hand.

"Okay I'm back. Did you-" John stopped, eying the newest occupant of 221B, who was currently rubbing up against Sherlock.

"Hello." He simply stated, clearing his throat afterwards. "I see you took my advice. Good."

Sherlock snorted "It was hardly advice Doctor Watson. "

John smiled and placed the grocery bags down, squatting to pet the cat.

"What's it's name?"

"I don't know. I didn't give it one, didn't want to get attached. Not that that would happen of course."

"Sherlock! I expect you to take care of this cat! Name it right now or I'll..I'll.."

Sherlock smiled, knowing he had won. What exactly he wasn't sure, but he had John in a corner. "You'll what? Put me in time out? Really, John, you should know what you're going to say before you open your mouth. Now unpack the groceries."

John cleared his throat again and straightened. "Or I'll make sure that you don't work on the next case we get."

Sherlock stiffened.

"You don't have the authority over that."

"Oh, I don't? Try me."

Sherlock glanced at his flat mate. He and Mary had gotten into a serious argument, which had put John out of the house for a few days, possibly a week. Which meant John was stuck with him or an expensive hotel.

And now Sherlock was stuck with him. And John had somehow seized control of the flat. Perhaps he would somehow keep Sherlock off the next case, he didn't know.

But he wasn't going to take the chance.

"Fine. It- well her name is Casey. Happy?"

John nodded curtly, turning back to the groceries and beginning to unpack.

"Casey?" He inquired as he put the milk in the fridge.

"Yes. Casey. Case for short."

John stopped short, turning to Sherlock.

"I should be known something like that would've happened." He sighed, raising his eyebrows. "At least it wasn't something like Murder or Suicide." He muttered quietly.

...

The doorbell rang and Sherlock leaped out of the seat, dislodging a very happy Casey onto the floor. Down the steps he went, flinging open the door.

The person standing there looked up at him with shock, mouth slightly agape. It was the girl for the animal place.

"Hello." Said Sherlock, obviously disappointed it wasn't someone with a case.

"Um... H-hi. I was just dropping by to make sure Lily was settled in?"

Lily. The former name of the cat. Sherlock almost said she was doing fine and slammed the door shut, but he imagined John's reaction and stopped himself.

"Would you like to see her?" He asked nicely, stepping away from the door and gesturing for her to come in. She nodded and walked by him, light blonde hair trailing past him. He closed the door and followed her up the stairs.

"Her name is Casey now." He commented, eying his newest flat mate.

"Casey. I like it!" The girl bent down to pat said Casey, scratching behind her ears and murmuring what a good girl she was.

She straightened, almost bumping into John.

"Oh, hello there."

John blinked.

"He-hello." John answered. "I don't believe we've met. The name is John, John Watson. You?" He extended a hand towards her, smiling warmly.

The girl smiled back, grasping his hand firmly and shaking. "Hannah Dempsey, and pleased to meet you. I was just checking in on Casey here, who seems to be doing fine."

John nodded, glancing at Sherlock. Sherlock straightened and sniffed a little, attempting to look bored. John new better.

Hannah turned to Sherlock, still smiling. "Well, glad she seems to be fine. Thank you for letting me see her. She was one of my favorites, you know?" She started down the stairs, Sherlock closely behind.

"Bye!" She gave a small wave.

"Goodbye."

The door to 221B shut quickly, and Hannah was soon gone.

...

Half an hour later, Sherlock looked up from the newspaper he was currently reading.

"She smelled like cinnamon."

John smiled.

 **A/N:**

 **THANK YOU FOR READING/ REVIEWING YOU WONDERFUL PEOPLE! And thank you also for the favorites! You guys are all so kind!**

 **that being said don't be afraid to give me some good old constructive criticism. Sherlock would do it you know (Only don't be as insensitive as he usually is)**

 **(::) (::) (::) Cookies for my favorite people**


End file.
